Read LOWCOUNTRY BOOK CLUB for Free Online

There, in what looked like the cafeteria, wearing an apron with a woman and two small children. And again, outside on the playground with a group of children. Happy, smiling. Shelby was making a face in one photo, to the apparent delight of three little girls.
    And there she was again, in her One80Place logo t-shirt, with a very familiar face. Her arm was tucked behind his back, and his behind hers. Standing real close. They were eating ice cream cones and smiling for the camera.
    Sonny Ravenel.
    My brother Blake’s lifelong best friend. Practically a member of our family.
    Charleston Police detective.
    I looked up and down the hall, removed the push pin, and tucked the photo in the pocket of my denim jacket.
    What. The. Hell?
    I scurried back to Tricia Hopkins’ office, took a deep breath, and forced a neutral expression onto my face. “Thank you so much,” I said.
    â€œNot at all.”
    I returned to my seat. “Do you have a lot of community volunteers?”
    â€œYes, actually. We’re very fortunate in that regard. Businesses help out with donations. It’s not at all unusual for local restaurants to cook for the residents. And countless individuals give of their time every week.”
    â€œHow about the local public service offices? Fire department? Police department?”
    â€œCertainly. Individually and sometimes in groups.” A confused look crossed her face.
    â€œA friend of mine—he’s a police detective—Sonny Ravenel. I think he’s volunteered here before.”
    â€œIt’s certainly possible.”
    I stood. “Well. I’ve taken enough of your time. May I call you if I have further questions?”
    â€œOf course.” She handed me her card and walked me out.
    In the car, I took a few deep breaths, then pulled out the photo and stared at it.
    Ice cream. Kids romping all around. This couldn’t be anything other than an innocent coincidence. I posed for photos with my arm around other folks’ backs all the time. It didn’t mean a thing.
    Except the two of them looked so happy. And they were awfully close.
    This was nothing. Nothing.
    Damnation.
    My iPhone sang out “Always Gonna Be You” by Kenny Chesney.
    Nate.
    â€œHey,” I answered.
    â€œI’ve got unfortunate news,” he said.
    My insides clinched, braced for another blow. “What?”
    â€œFirst, Charles Kinloch has a clear schedule, on this Wednesday morning anyway. Hasn’t left the house. Came out in what looks like yesterday’s clothes to get the paper earlier, but that’s it. At any rate, while I’ve been watching him do nothing, I finished going through the last file from the last box.”
    â€œAnd?”
    â€œKinloch’s business in London involved getting a money shot of a Kardashian. His alibi is airtight.”
    â€œWe knew he had an alibi. What’s the unfortunate news?”
    Nate sighed. “ Paul Baker was looking at Sonny Ravenel.”
    â€œ Why?” My right hand, the one clutching the photo, trembled.
    â€œ According to Baker’s notes, Delta Tisdale, another friend of Shelby’s, suggested Sonny as a possibility because Shelby mentioned his name a lot. Apparently, she spent a good bit of time with him on behalf of folks at One80Place.”
    â€œ Sonny would never be romantically involved with a married woman.” I was talking to myself as much as Nate.
    â€œ Is he romantically involved with anyone?”
    I pondered that for a moment. Here was a glimmer of hope. “ Last I heard he was dating a girl from Folly Beach. He brought her to The Pirates’ Den about a month ago, remember? It was a Friday night. The band was playing. I declare I don’t remember her name.” Sonny and my brother, Blake, along with a few of their friends, had a band— The Back Porch Prophets . They played most Friday nights at The Pirates’ Den, a local favorite restaurant and bar.